


Patch You Up

by zeropercent (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2011-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 04:37:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/zeropercent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I’m just so sick of feeling useless.”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Patch You Up

“I’m just so sick of feeling useless.”

Dean turns around, putting the papers in his hands on the table and furrowing his eyebrows at Sam. “What?”

Sam goes to bury his face into the odd smelling motel pillow, “Never mind.”

“Sam. Sammy, look at me.” Sam doesn’t even make an effort to move and he feels the bed dip as Dean sits next to him, his hand rubbing his back. “Listen, you are the farthest thing from useless to me, okay?” Dean leans down when Sam shakes his head, pressing his mouth against the nape of his neck. “You’re like gold, Sammy. You help me so much.”

“Dean, you don’t und—”

“Shush. I do understand. And I love you, alright?”

He nods, “I love you, too.” He turns around, looking up at Dean with trusting eyes. “I feel horrible when you get hurt, like it’s my fault.” He reaches out and brushes the tips of his fingers over the cut on Dean’s face. Sam sighs, “Like I could have done something about it but didn’t.”

A faint smile appears on Dean’s face before he kisses Sam, soft and careful, like Sam will break if he goes too fast or hard. Sam melts into the kiss, letting out a rush of air. Dean slides his tongue along Sam’s lip, earning a soft noise. “You don’t have to worry, Sammy. I’m here, I’m alive.”

Sam lets out a sob against his mouth, “Thank god you are.” He clutches Dean’s shirt, twisting it in his grip. It’s cold in the motel room and Sam shivers, goose bumps appearing on his skin. Dean shoves the blanket over both of them, practically lying on top of Sam. Sam mumbles a, “Thank you,” and he lets his hands slide under Dean’s shirt, resting against the warm skin there.

Dean moves to lie next to him, his arm draped over Sam’s waist. “Just relax.” He traces circles into Sam’s hip, “We’ll be fine.”

Sam shuts his eyes, “I’m just scared.”

“I know.” It’s not like Dean isn’t scared, in fact, he’s scared shitless. If he were to die, Sam would be alone. It terrifies him to think of his little brother all alone without a mother or a father or a brother—without a family at all. Because if there’s one person on this earth who deserves love, it’s Sam.

Dean plants quick, delicate kisses along Sam’s jaw, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Dean.” Sam curls up against Dean, his head on his chest, and in minutes they’re both asleep.

X

Sam wakes up gasping and sweating, calling out his brother’s name. “Dean? Dean!”

The door to the bathroom swings open and Dean’s soaking wet with a towel around his waist. Sam was too out of it to even hear the water running. “Sammy? What’s goin’ on?”

Sam wipes his forehead and tries to regulate his breathing, “I just—just had a dream.”

Dean walks over to the bed, careful not to slip, “You’re covered in sweat. C’mon. To the shower.” Sam allows Dean to drag him into the bathroom, stripping him of all of his clothes before pushing him under the hot stream of water. Dean smiles at him, placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders, “How’re you feelin’?”

“I’ve been better.” Sam blinks the droplets of water from his eyes and grabs Dean’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “It seemed so real. The dream, I mean. It wasn’t a premonition, I could tell it wasn’t. But it was still horrible.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Sam shakes his head, “It’s good enough knowing that you’re safe.”

Dean squeezes Sam’s hand, “Alright.” Dean reaches up and brushes the hair from Sam’s face, pulling him in and kissing him. They’ve been extremely busy, intimacy almost becoming nonexistent. Dean can’t stand it. “Love you, Sammy.”

“Love you, Dean.”

It’s silent for the next few minutes, Sam and Dean simply staring straight into each other’s eyes. It’s strangely intense, and Sam finds himself getting lost in Dean’s green eyes. The same eyes he’s seen his entire life. When he was looking at Dean, he was genuinely at home.

Sam wraps his arms around Dean, shutting his eyes. Dean rubs his back and whispers, “I’ve got you, Sammy.” He trails his fingertips down Sam’s spine, pulling him closer and pressing his lips against his shoulder. Dean grabs the soap, removing the leftover dirt from Sam’s skin. Dark purple bruises are scattered all over his body and Dean frowns, knowing that Sam has been too occupied with him to focus on himself. Dean voices his concern, “Sam, please look after yourself. I can’t lose you. You’re all I have.”

Sam lets out a small laugh and cups Dean’s face in his hands, “You’re an idiot.” Dean gives him a look and Sam continues, “So you can take care of me but I can’t take care of you? Jesus, Dean. You’re insane.” He scoffs, “No matter what, I’m gonna look out for you the same way you look out for me.”

“Whatever.”

Sam drops his arms and Dean cards his fingers through Sam’s wet hair. He tilts Sam’s head back and reaches for the shampoo, “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s clean you up properly.”


End file.
